sent to the town of Grailey
to make discoveries. In the matter of successfully instituting private
inquiries, he was justly considered to be a match for any two Christians
who might try to put obstacles in his way. His name was Moses Jackling.

Entering the cigar-shop, the Jew discovered that he had presented
himself at a critical moment.

A girl and a man were standing behind the counter. The girl looked like
a maid-of-all-work: she was rubbing the tears out of her eyes with a
big red fist. The man, smart in manner and shabby in dress, received the
stranger with a peremptory eagerness to do business. "Now, then! what
for you?" Jackling bought the worst cigar he had ever smoked, in
the course of an enormous experience of bad tobacco, and tried a few
questions with this result. The girl had lost her place; the man was
in "possession"; and the stock and furniture had been seized for debt.
Jackling thereupon assumed the character of a creditor, and ask to speak
with the mistress.

"She's too ill to see you, sir," the girl said.

"Tell the truth, you fool," cried the man in possession. He led the
way to a door with a glass in the upper part of it, which opened into
a parlor behind the shop. As soon as his back was turned, Jackling
whispered to the maid, "When I go, slip out after me; I've got something
for you." The man lifted the curtain over the glass. "Look through," he
said, "and see what's the matter with her for yourself."

Jackling discovered the mistress flat on her back on the floor,
helplessly drunk. That was enough for the clerk--so far. He took leave
of the man in possession, with the one joke which never wears out in the
estimation of Englishmen; the joke that foresees the drinker's headache
in the morning. In a minute or two more the girl showed herself,
carrying an empty jug. She had been sent for the man's beer, and she
was expected back directly. Jackling, having first overwhelmed her by a
present of five shillings, proposed another appointment in the evening.
The maid promised to be at the place of meeting; and in memory of the
five shillings she kept her word.

"What wages do you get?" was the first question that astonished her.

"Three pounds a year, sir," the unfortunate creature replied.

"All paid?"

"Only one pound paid--and I say it's a crying shame."

"Say what you like, my dear, so long as you listen to me. I want to know
everything that your mistress says and does--first when she's dru